Charming Ball
by soulnecklace
Summary: Ashley works at Charming Shoes. The Charming Brands, they're called - Charming Shoes, Charming Furniture, Charming Fragrance, even Charming Travel. Every year there's the Charming Brands Ball. Ashley knows there's no chance of her going, not with the ugly shop-assistants out to stop her. But Ashley hasn't reckoned with a mystery shopper and the power of excellent service...


**I posted the first half of this last week but wasn't happy with it, so I took it down to rework. This is kind of from Once Upon a Time, but with only one character from the TV Series, and she's in quite a different job. And here's the thing: Once Upon a Time is really a Fan Fic, but a Fan Fic with a huge budget. What do you call a fan-fic of a fan-fic? Does this make it a fan-fic squared? Anyway, hope you enjoy.**

**Comments and feedback always welcome.**

**New Technology**

"You're the new girl, ain't ya?" She chewed her gum slowly, staring at me. She didn't seem to blink much.

"Hi!" I held out my hand. "I'm Ashley."

"Ashley, eh?" She stared at my hand and moved the gum to the other cheek. "Think I'll call you Ash. Its shorter."

My hand fell back to my side.

"Hey, Zelda," she called, still staring at me. "It's the new girl."

Out from the back came another shop assistant, pushing the curtains apart with a white shoulder.

"Hello," she said.

"Hi. I'm Ashley."

"We'll call her Ash, though," said the gum-chewer.

Zelda stared at me intently. Tall and skinny, with her white-skin and black-hair, she looked kind of like a zombie. An alive zombie, that doesn't shamble and eat flesh. Like an extra, in a zombie movie. I realized I was staring back.

"So, Ash," said gum-chewer. "This here's the shop. We sell shoes, ok. We put shoes on people's feet. We get shoes from out the back, put them on display. When we run out, we order more. That's what we do. Okay?"

I nodded.

The shop was called "Charming" and the dot above the i was a crown. You've probably heard of them; they're in most high-end shopping malls. The Charming Brands, they're called: Charming Shoes, Charming Furniture, Charming Fragrance, even Charming Travel, which specializes in travel to romantic destinations. The sort of places that have rivers and woods and big stone castles. There's a feel to the Charming Brands – kind of old-fashioned, almost fairytale, but with an edge of technology and glamour. They don't do whitewear or electronics. There's nothing fairytale about a fridge.

This was my first job on leaving school. I'd been desperate to get away from my teachers for two years, but Mum had done a deal – stick to school until I'm sixteen and she'll buy me a car. And on my sixteenth birthday, she handed me the keys and I started looking for jobs.

I hadn't realized how hard it would be to find work. The only thing I could find was dead-end hospo jobs – waitressing in grotty burger bars and delivering pizzas. So when I'd seen the advertisement for a shoe shop I was kind of excited.

Excited, until I met my colleagues. Zombie-fied Zelda and Gum-chewing Bernice. Bernice chewed gum all the time. I never saw her putting a fresh stick in her mouth. Just chew chew chew on the same old piece. Bernice felt she was the Queen of the Charming Shoe store and Zelda was her side-kick. Which left me as the maid-of-all work. I did the vacuuming, the dusting. Washed the dishes. And sold the shoes. The other girls watched, commented, and told me what to do.

"Ash!" Bernice was pouring over photos of glamorous models on a red carpet. Her bare feet were up on a stool. She always wore really high-heels to work, but she had a bunion and the rock-star shoes hurt her feet. "Customers! Go!"

It was my break time, not hers.

"Can't Zelda?"

"She's out the back. Doing the stock-take. There's some new stock just in."

Zelda was always out the back. I sighed, put down the magazine and went into the store.

An older woman with white-blond hair and a leopard-skin business suit was eyeing the merchandise.

"Can I help you, ma'am?"

She smiled at me, her smooth forehead barely moving. "What a pretty child you are!"

Um. Thanks. I guess. "Are you looking for anything special?"

"No, not really. I'm just…looking." She studied me carefully. "You're new here, aren't you?"

I nodded. "I started last month."

"Ah. I thought there was something different." She ran a finger over a glass shelf. "Look! It's clean!"

I smiled.

"I'm going to a dance." The store lights glinted on the stones on her wrist, her fingers. Were they real diamonds? "There's a man. Much younger than I. Much younger. He's quite lovely, in fact. And I'm looking for something to wear."

"Heels," I said. "But not too high, or you might twist your ankle. That's not a good look."

"No. Not smart at all."

"And sparkly," I said, looking at her jewelry. "Something with rhinestones, maybe? Or sequins?"

"Sequins! Oh yes."

"Please, have a seat. I'll measure you up, then see what we have."

This woman looked about the same age as my Mum, but so much better maintained. Not a nice thing to think about your Mum, but its true. I was always nagging Mum to put more make-up on, to get her hair cut. Wear nicer clothes. But she'd just smile and shake her head and say she had other things she needed to spend her money on. There's no reasoning with Mum. She's more stubborn than me.

Still, cougar-woman looked pleasant enough, and she seemed real polite. She looked like she had plenty of money. Maybe I could sell her something expensive, make my sales target for the month. We all have sales targets. I'm the only one that makes mine – the others can't be bothered.

"You're a size nine," I said.

I took a few boxes of sparkly high-heels over to her, but she shook her head. She was looking for something special. Something that _sang_.

The shop was empty, but for this lady, so there was nothing urgent. I sat back on my little stool, stared up the customer. "What are you going to wear to the dance?"

She pulled at her skirt, looking suddenly nervous. "I was thinking, this."

"A suit?" I said "Oh no."

"I always wear leopard print."

"Tell me about the dance. Where is it?"

"At the Castle."

I nearly chocked. "At the Castle? Are you talking about the Charming Ball?"

"Why, yes. Have you heard of it?"

Have I heard of the Charming Ball? Of course I have. Every year the Charming Stores have a full-on ball: long dresses, candles, and an orchestra. The works. All the rich and famous go to it. And every year, the top franchises and the top sales-people are invited. Zelda and Bernice were hoping for an invitation. They were dreaming.

"You _can't_ wear leopard print to a ball."

"Why not?"

"Stay there," I said. "I'll be right back."

I barged out the back, grabbed Zelda's magazine – it was our store one, called _A Charming Life_ - from her fingers. She hissed at me. I ignored her.

I passed the _Life_ to the customer. "There are photos of the ball in here. Have a look."

Another customer – a mother and a whining daughter – came into the store. I went to serve them, while my cougar-customer looked through the photographs. The whining daughter seemed happy enough with the design sneakers (the same as the one from the discount store, but with an extra logo added) and mum and daughter went away happy.

I went back to the cougar lady. "What do you think?"

"I think," she said seriously, "that I need to go shopping."

"Tell you what," I looked around quickly to see if Zelda or Bernice were watching, "Take the magazine."

"Are you sure?"

"Quick. Pop it your bag." I rolled it up into a tube, pocked it into her velvet bag. It looked big enough to hold lots of magazines. "You can show the photos to the store assistant."

"Thank you," she said. "You've been very kind."

"Come back when you've decided on a dress. The shoes should always match the dress, shouldn't they?" I stopped. Thought about that for a moment. "Although," I added carefully, "there's some new stock just in. And one of them might just work for you. I'll have a look out the back."

Zelda was smoking. She ignored me, just stared up at the cigarette smoke, watched it twist and curl into the air. Was she on drugs? Or was she just really really bored?

The new shoes were hideously expensive. I mean, hideous. And we are a high-end store, so hideous means lots and lots and lots of money. But they really would go with anything. And they sparkled, glittered. They looked fabulous. Not too high; but high enough. The person wearing these shoes could dance on, forever.

"They're made of a new bio-illuminate," I said. "There's an article about them in that magazine I gave you. They conform to your feet, so they grow more comfortable the more you wear them." I took one out of the box, held it up to the light. "What do you think?" I turned it; light sparked from it, refracting into rainbows. "Aren't they pretty?"

"Oh yes," she said. "Oh yes. They're beautiful. And you're right. They would go with anything. Please. Can I try them on?"

"Of course. We have them in just your size."

It's a wonderful moment when a hard-to-please customer finds exactly what they want. It's a relief, of course, for the shop assistant, but it's also a satisfaction; like helping someone achieve a goal.

My cougar lady slipped her feet into the glass slipper and smiled. She glowed. "Oh, my!" she said. "I could dance to heaven and back in these! How much are they?"

"Ah, they're quite expensive," I said.

"You can't sell those," said Zelda, emerging from the curtain like something from the Addams Family. "Bernice wants them."

Hearing her name, Bernice came storming out. "You can't sell those. They're mine."

My poor customer stood there, while the other staff yelled at me. "You're hopeless! Never thinking of others! Don't know why we put up with you! Just waits until Norman finds out!"

Finally the customer cleared her throat. The diamonds on her wrist and fingers gleamed. "My dears," she said. "Far be it from me to take away your toys." She stepped her feet from the shoes, passed them to me. "There are other stores," she said. "Somewhere, I will find another pair."

She put on her own shoes and walked away. I've never felt as sad as that moment. How stupid is that? They're only shoes. It's not as though she'd had food taken from her, or something important. But when she had tried on the glass slipper, she had looked so happy. For a moment, it seemed, she'd found something that was absolutely right. It's not often you find those moments. You need to hold onto them.

Zelda and Bernice watched her go.

Bernice gathered up the shoes and stuffed them back in the box, scattering wrapping paper and packing. "There's a real mess here now. You'd better clean up, Ash. And where's my magazine?"

"I gave it away," I said. "And do your own damn cleaning. I'm on my break."

The next month was horrible. I got the silent treatment. Zelda smoked out the back; Bernice chewed gum and stared at me with those unblinking eyes. I took to having coffee with the hairdressers from the store next door. At least they'd talk to me. I thought about leaving, but what would I do? I'd have to find another job, or go back to school. No. I couldn't go back there – all the teachers telling me what to do, the other smart-ass kids whispering behind their hands (she couldn't handle a job, you know). So I ignored them and tried to sell shoes.

A shopping mall is a strange place to work. It's always bright – the lights are super-strong and the temperature never changes. There's no windows, so you have absolutely no idea what the weather outside is like, unless a customer tells you.

At school, there were sports days and cultural days. There would be concerts, with visiting groups coming. There might be a competition against another school. There were teacher-only-days and stop-work meetings. And school holidays. At school, you kind of felt the seasons. But in a shopping mall, each day is almost exactly the same as the day before. It's kind of like being in the tardis.

There were articles in _A Charming Life_ about the Charming Ball. This year the Ball would be bigger and better than ever. The Charming Brands had had a record profit. There were stories about the number of candles, and about the special soloists who had been flown in from Italy to sing at the ball. And the son of the founder, Princeton Charming, would be there in person. Bernice and Zelda sat in the coffee room, whispering together. Princeton was tall, handsome, dark-haired. And of course, fabulously rich.

The next issue of _A Charming Life_ had an announcement. Charming Brands wanted to thank their staff, who had helped to achieve such a wonderful result. Five staff would be selected to attend the ball. All expenses would be paid – their clothing, accessories. They would stay overnight at Craythorne Castle, the site of the ball and meet Princeton Charming himself. Bernice bragged that she would be invited.

It was ball season at the schools, too, and the shop was crazy. Some of the rich girls from my old school came in. Of course, I was the only one serving. They'd see me and try and pretend they didn't know who I was; I played along. I preferred to be unknown.

So I was busy serving, and for a while I didn't notice her. But the crowd around the till cleared and then I saw the woman with the jewelry, still in her leopard skin.

"Hello," she said. "Do you remember me?"

I smiled. Hard to forget someone with jewelry and leopard skin print.

"I got a dress," she whispered. "It cost a fortune, but it's worth it. I hope." She peered behind me. "Are those other, um, ladies, here?"

"They're out the back."

"Do you still have any of those glass shoes? I've looked everywhere for something as nice, but I just can't find anything. I don't want to get you into trouble. But they were so comfortable."

I was suddenly angry, immensely angry at Bernice and Zelda. They were so selfish!

"I'll go and look," I said.

I barged past Zelda, still staring up at her smoke. Grabbed a few boxes, so she wouldn't realize that I was after one in particular.

My customer was still standing where I'd left her. She had someone else with her – a tall, dark-haired man. He was looking at an iphone screen while talking to her. Was this the younger date? He was pretty good-looking. No wonder she wanted her dress and shoes to be just right.

"Here you are," I whispered. "

I put the other boxes on the seat like a barricade, so that if Zelda or Bernice came out they wouldn't see what I was doing. "Sit down," I said. "Better check they still fit."

"Oh they will," she said. "I'm sure of it. It was just like magic!"

"It's the new technology. Amazing, isn't it?" I pulled them from the box, put them on the floor to slip on. "Look, they fit perfectly!" I laughed. "You shall go to the ball!"

The man smiled, slipped his phone into his pocket. "You happy, Aunt?"

She pouted. "Oh don't call me "Aunt", Princeton. It makes me feel so old."

He stared down at me. His eyes were intensely blue. "You were right. She is pretty, isn't she? He reached down a hand, helped me to my feet. "What do you think, Ashley? Would you like to come to the ball?"

"How do you know my name?"

"When my Aunt told me about the service she'd had here," said the man, "I looked up the staff records. I am Princeton Charming."

I was unable to speak. Princeton Charming, himself! In this store! He was much more handsome in real life than the photos.

"Princeton calls me Aunt," said the cougar lady, "but I'm not related to him at all. I'm Flora, his Godmother."

"So you're not, um, going with him? To the ball?"

She looked at me. At Princeton. Began to laugh. "Oh, my dear! Oh, no! No. The man I am going with is much, much, better looking."

"Thank you very much," said Princeton.

"And younger, too," added Flora.

I tried not to make a face, but Princeton did.

Zelda and Bernice came into the store. There were red spots on Bernice's cheeks.

"See, I told you," said Zelda. "She's trying to sell them _again_."

"Ash," said Bernice. "Stop it. They're…"

She stopped. Zelda stopped. For a moment, the world seemed to pause.

"Ah yes," said Princeton, charmingly. "These must be the other staff you mentioned, Aunt. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, ladies, but you're fired. You will find out in a letter, but I thought since my Aunt…"

"_Don't_ call me that," hissed Flora,

"Sorry. Since _Flora_ has told me all about her experiences here, I would come in and meet you all myself."

Zelda and Bernice stared at him, their mouths wide open. They looked like two stuffed fishes.

"Now, Ashley," said Princeton, "Flora would like to take you shopping. For the ball."

"For the ball?" whispered Bernice.

"You're taking her?" said Zelda.

"Of course," said Princeton. He reached out, took my hand. His fingers were warm and very gentle. "I look forward to dancing with her. You'll have to wear the new glass slippers, Ashley. I know they'll fit you perfectly."


End file.
